


Restitutions

by TunnelRabbit



Series: Orbits [3]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Amends, Awkward Zuko, Gen, Ostrich horse, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 17:56:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9560426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TunnelRabbit/pseuds/TunnelRabbit
Summary: Zuko is ashamed of his past crimes. He returns to the Earth Kingdom to make amends.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a standalone story that dovetails with Chapter 8 of [Book 4: Harmony](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10173911/chapters/22598069)

The year had been an unending stream of negotiations, parleys, treaty revisions, staffing decisions, ceremonies, audiences with subjects, alliance building, endless correspondence—he'd had no idea it would be so tedious. And there was so much repair. The Agni Kai with Azula alone had damaged half of Caldera City. Then there were the assassination attempts, though these were more in the line with the kind of stress Zuko was used to.

His friends were the leavening that made it bearable, passing through as they could. Everyone was working for peace, drawing on the unique friendships they’d made in the previous year, traveling back and forth, building connections across the world. But Zuko was by and large forced to stay in the Fire Nation.

A relative calm descended on the capital at the Winter Solstice. Members of the court retreated to their family estates for the new year holidays. Many palace staff were likewise given permission to return to their ancestral homes around the nation to reunite with family. State business slowed to a trickle. 

Zuko could finally leave.

He sailed to an Earth Kingdom river port. On shore, he bought an ostrich horse and supplies for a long trip. He also packed yet another Blue Spirit mask (his fourth), along with a surprising quantity of gold coin. He wore his hair down under a broad hat and donned a simple, yet respectable Earth Kingdom tunic, with his double dao slung across his back.

He was Lee again.

He rode first across the desolate plains where he’d nearly starved the year before to the half-abandoned town where the boy Lee and his family lived. Since all prisoners of war had already been released, he hoped to see them reunited. And although he had genuinely tried to help them in return for their kindness—and because he just liked that kid—he knew he’d done them more harm than good. He didn’t know if Lee would hate him more or less now that he had taken over the Fire Nation, but he wanted to know.

Their homestead was deserted. Scarcely anyone was left in the town, in fact—the well was drying up—and those that were left had no idea where Gansu, Selu, and their boys had gone, only that they’d moved on looking for better land.

Zuko rode north then, to a certain river town where he and his uncle had spent a couple of weeks the year before. He would be busy here. He wandered the streets, the corners where he and Uncle had begged, the square where the Big Jerk had made Uncle dance—and Uncle had _done_ it. He still couldn’t stomach that memory. One by one, he relived their humiliations, and one by one, he recognized his victims and followed them home.

At night, disguised as the Blue Spirit, he bounded across the rooftops to the homes of people he’d stolen from and silently slipped a bag of gold into a window or a concealed nook—and for one family, a golden tea set, retrieved lately from Ba Sing Se.

The Big Jerk—Sokka would have come up with a better nickname—arguably _had_ deserved what he got, when the Blue Spirit had stolen not only his swords but his overblown pride. It was for Zuko’s own honor that he had to pay even this debt.

He waited for the Big Jerk to stagger out of the tavern. As before, the Blue Spirit leapt down in front of the man, as if materializing from the Spirit World. As before, the Big Jerk quailed and lost his balance. Losing to him was going to be a serious challenge. At least the man was armed. 

“The Blue Spirit! Come to get my knife, too?”

The Blue Spirit drew his swords—but not too fast—and sliced the air menacingly while the Jerk regained his composure and went for his long knife. He found his stance and crouched to charge. The Blue Spirit turned aside in time to avoid being gutted, but allowed himself to spin off center. Please take this opportunity, he prayed silently. But the Jerk was not sober enough and his reflexes were poor.

The Blue Spirit had regained his footing by the time the Big Jerk circled back. This time, Zuko all but tripped himself, which somehow brought the Jerk down on top of him. He flipped to wrestle him. Maybe the man would be a more competent wrestler. Deliberately abandoning all skill, he was indeed overpowered by his larger, older opponent, who soon had him pinned and writhing as if unable to break free.

The Big Jerk laughed. “Not so quick on your feet now! I think I’ll take back what’s mine.” So saying, he wrenched one of the dao out of Zuko’s hand. Which of course left the other free to swing, and as it made no sense not to, Zuko did, using the sword’s momentum to roll him to his feet.

Now equally armed, the two men circled each other. This time, the Blue Spirit lunged, allowing himself to overreach slightly. The Big Jerk finally managed to properly take this opening, turning and catching Zuko’s sword arm against his chest, again successfully disarming him.

He crowed in victory, holding both dao aloft, his pride reclaimed, wrested from the legendary outlaw. When he looked back to his adversary to gloat, the Blue Spirit was gone.

* * *

Zuko’s knew his last visit would be the hardest. Hardest to face and, it turned out, hardest to find. They had been on the run after Azula’s betrayal, staying off the main roads, traveling aimlessly. And he was embarrassed to realize that he’d remembered the place only as White Jade Village, because of Uncle’s mishap, but that wasn’t actually it’s name.

Painstakingly picking up their old route, footpath to fishing hole to forest glade, was like watching “The Boy in the Iceberg” all over again, reliving every mistake and mortification. His failure at fishing. His petulant outbursts at Uncle. His wounded pride. Uncle’s naiveté. He would make sure his own children knew how to feed themselves without a servant in sight—that would be the source of _their_ pride.

Finally, he happened upon Song’s village. _Her_ name, he could not forget. Guilt had burned it into his memory like yet another scar.

Zuko arrived at Song’s farm at dusk, as before. The house had looked clean and well cared for the year before, if simple and sparse; now the fence was missing a few boards, tiles had fallen from the roof, and the yard was full of weeds. There was a light on, however.

He led the ostrich horse into the stable, then stood at the open gate. All his prepared words fled his mind, and his stomach churned. He steeled himself: You have shouted down Ozai, taken lightning from Azula, thrown yourself at the mercy of the Avatar, and ended a world war. This is only a peasant and her mother.

Song came out onto the porch and saw him. Her face, open and generous by nature, shifted to a puzzled frown, then clouded in anger. She spat out: “You!”

Zuko stared at her a moment, then did the only thing he could do. He knelt and pressed his hands and head to the dusty ground in a bow of abject apology.

There was silence. Then he heard her footsteps approach, cautiously, then more firmly, until she was standing before him. She touched the back of his head, gently. But, looking up, he saw fear and resentment still etched on her face. He knew the expression she wore all too well: that of the betrayed.

“Miss Song, I am here to apologize,” Zuko, remaining on his knees, recovered his speech. “Of all of the evil I’ve done in my life, stealing your ostrich horse is one of the acts I am most ashamed of. You fed and cared for my uncle and me when we had nowhere else to turn—you saved his life! You and your mother were nothing but kind and generous and I insulted your goodwill. You showed me your scar and I dishonored your trust. I was arrogant and selfish and—“

“Enough.” She sounded exhausted. “Get up, please. Come inside.”

She turned and he followed obediently. Once again, she fed him. She had just set out her evening meal and now added another bowl, chopsticks, and spoon to the table, with a cup of barley tea. She spooned half of the rice out of her own bowl and placed it in his.

“Where is your mother?”

She bowed her head. “Oh no,” he gasped, his heart sinking.

“Oh, she’s alive.” And he eased out a breath of relief. “But she’s not well. Let’s not disturb her.” She gestured at the closed door behind her, and was quiet for a moment, considering her words.

“You did more than insult us by stealing our Babo, you know.” So the animal had a name. “That was how we made our calls, as midwives. How we earned our rice. Didn’t you wonder why a household as unfortunate as ours—just two women, and the men gone—could keep an ostrich horse? We cared for it as one of the family because we could not survive without it. The day you came, the day my mother roasted the duck, was the first time in months we’d had good meat, so we made a little celebration of it. It was a gift from a family in the next village whose first grandson we’d helped deliver.”

Zuko stared at the half empty rice bowl in front of him. He thought he might vomit. This was actually far worse than he had expected. “So I was also unforgivably naïve. No, I did not understand any of that.”

Now he forced himself to meet her eyes. “I want to make amends. It didn’t occur to me how important your animal would be to you because I’d never lived without wealth before. I didn’t know then what it was to be poor. My uncle and I didn’t know ordinary people lived, or even how to take care of ourselves. I mean, you would know that, because of how you met us in the first place.”

She smiled ruefully. “Yes, we wondered how your uncle could make such a foolish mistake. We thought you were odd, but assumed you were from far away.”

“We are. But we were also born to privilege—enormous privilege. And I’ve returned to that life now, after a long fight. I have resources, I can help you! I’ve brought you another ostrich horse. It’s in your stable now. It’s not…Babo, though. We sold him in the desert and I don’t know where he would be now. I’m sorry.

“And I want to give you more! Anything you want. Gold? Land? A whole herd of ostrich horses? Name it!” He dug into his pockets and scattered gold coins on the table.

She was taken aback. “I don’t want any of that! We are poor, but we don’t need much. I just want my mother’s health back.”

“Then I will bring you the finest healer money can buy. A waterbender—their healers are legendary.”

“Where would you find a waterbender?” She shook her head at such foolish dreaming.

“I know people—I’ve traveled the world. I'll get Katara, or maybe Yugoda herself can come. Please, I have to help!”

She looked closely at him, eyes narrowing. “You said your name was Lee.” It wasn’t a question, but it required an answer.

“I did.” He nodded. “But of course, it’s not.”

“You’re not from the Earth Kingdom.”

“No. The Fire Nation.”

Her eyes widened and she recoiled. “But—You said your father fought in the war. And your face—“

“My father did fight, _against_ the Earth Kingdom. Though that’s not how I lost him. Ozai inflicted suffering at home, too, you know.”

She was studying his face closely. He could see the evidence stacking up behind her eyes. The wanted posters had been spread across the Earth Kingdom, and the likeness had been decent.

Her eyes grew even wider as she came to a conclusion that must be impossible. She scooted away from him and raised a hand to her mouth. He noticed it was trembling.

“No, please, there’s nothing to be afraid of!” He extended a hand, leaning towards her. “I’m here in peace. We’re all at peace now. The war is over. I ended it.”

“You—! You can’t be!”

He sighed in defeat. The gig was up. “I am Zuko, Lord of the Fire Nation. When you met me last year, I was the crown prince, exiled as a traitor, traveling with my Uncle Iroh, known here as the Dragon of the West. I helped the Avatar defeat my father, so...there you go.”

She turned so pale he was afraid she would faint.

“Oh, shit. Put your head down, don’t pass out!” She started to lower her head, but it looked as if she were kowtowing. “No! Don’t do that. Don’t bow to me. Uh, do something else—“ He jumped up and started fanning her with a reed mat. “Lie down. Drink some tea. Breathe deeply.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” She held perfectly still for a moment, blank-faced, then began to quiver, then shake, as if holding in something intense. Zuko, who was expecting horror or hatred—anger at least—did not know what was happening. Was she crying? Having a seizure?

Her restraint burst suddenly and she let out a guffaw. He stared in confusion at Song—gentle, sad, delicate Song—curled up around a bellyful of giggles. This must be hysteria. The past year had been too much for her. He knelt down next to her and reached out, not quite touching her. “Are—are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she gasped. “It’s just all so absurd!”

“What is?”

“All of it! Tragic, ridiculous, absurd. The Fire Lord stole my ostrich horse!” She let out a shriek of laughter.

“I don’t see the humor here.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” She seemed to take that as a joke in itself.

The door slid open behind her and there sat her mother, bemused. “Song. Is this any way to treat our guest?”

Song pulled herself together and gave her mother a little bow. “I’m sorry I disturbed you, Ma. You remember Lee?”

Song’s mother gave him a hard look, which the gauntness of her face made harsh. “Indeed I do.”

“He has made his apologies for stealing Babo. And has come a long way to do it.” She turned to Zuko. “We don’t need your money. You admitted your mistake. That’s much harder to do than throwing gold at us. And it’s enough.”

“My daughter is right. Or would be, if you were not who you are.” Her eyes narrowed. Apparently, she had been listening. “I do have one request that only you can grant. Release the prisoners. Find my husband.”

Zuko bowed low. “It is already being done. I will find him.”

Song smiled. “I _am_ glad you found the Avatar.”

“I’ll introduce you someday. You’d like him.” And Zuko smiled back.

 

**Author's Note:**

> In a way, this is a fix-it. It bothered me that Zuko never came to terms with--or even acknowledged--one of his most ignominious crimes. 
> 
> Most of the other bad things he did were in a frame of combat with opponents who understood they were on opposite sides of a war. He's responsible for collateral damage to innocent bystanders--but again, that makes sense within the frame of Fire Nation behavior he then accepted as normal. He pretty much played by the rules as he understood them, and maintained honor as he (thoroughly) misunderstood it. (Even in his first fight with the Avatar, it was Aang who broke his word, not Zuko.) 
> 
> But in the first half of S2, he completely lost any sort of moral compass. Breaking the code of hospitality with Song and her mother was pretty nearly unforgivable, by any standards. He preyed on Song and his other victims like a common criminal (though worse, because he did it out of a sense of royal entitlement. I don't know, maybe a lot of criminals think the same way). Of course, his betrayal of Iroh at the end of the season was far worse, but he (and the show) _does_ thoroughly deal with that (plus, you know, unconditional love and all).
> 
> So, anyway, my 2 cents. Or 2500 words. 
> 
> The story continues in Chapter 8 of [Book 4: Harmony](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10173911/chapters/22598069). Zuko does find that waterbender for Song....


End file.
